What Comes After
by Emmeebee
Summary: After Lucius dies during the war, Narcissa is forced to re-evaluate her life choices in order to protect her son.


A/N: Written for QLFC Finals Round 1 by Chaser 1 of Pride of Portree.  
Prompts: pairing: Remus/Narcissa; include an example of personification and a metaphor.  
Optional prompts: (word) dawn, (colour) mulberry, (word) hazelnut  
Thank you to my teammates and my wonderful brother Kaayvan for betaing this.  
Word count: 2960 on Google Docs

* * *

Narcissa stood before the grave, cradling her son in her arms. Her expression was blank but for the single tear that glistened on her cheek. The war had been harsh and terrible, but she had never imagined that her husband would one day be numbered amongst its casualties. As naïve as it was, she had taken it for granted that they would grow old together.

She longed to don the true colour of mourning, but the wizarding public still doubted her loyalties. To them, their victory over the Dark Lord should overshadow any sorrow that she might feel over Lucius' passing; wearing black would destroy their tentative faith in her. So, instead, she was garbed in robes of dark mulberry: deep and sombre, but with a hint of hope. It felt inadequate, but it would have to suffice.

"It's a cult, Cissy," Andromeda had once said. "It will swallow us whole if we let it. If you marry this man, you will regret the decision for the rest of your life."

The next day, her sister had run away with a man who had no claim to anything except her heart.

The day after that, Narcissa had married Lucius—one bridesmaid short.

Over the years, she had proven her sister wrong. Her life with Lucius had been a fulfilling one, and they had been blessed with the most beautiful son in the world.

But the cult had fallen and her husband was gone, and she and Draco were left to face the consequences of Lucius' actions alone. And, for the first time in her life, she wondered if she had made the right decision.

-x-x-

Narcissa scowled as she entered the hospital room where Sirius was being treated. One year had passed since she had buried her husband. Even though she had been cleared of all charges, and even though she had actively campaigned to have her cousin exonerated, the Healers still treated her with suspicion whenever she came to visit. She was tempted to draw her wand just to see how they would react.

"It's peculiar," she noted as she settled into the only chair in the room. "My friends insist that St Mungo's is understaffed, yet there always seems to be at least one unoccupied Healer lingering about in your room. If this is how they run this place these days, I might have to start rethinking my family's annual donation to the hospital. It would be a shame to break the tradition, but there must be an organisation out there that could put the gold to better use."

Behind her, she heard a loud squeak and the sound of footsteps fleeing the room. It would take a normal person five minutes to get down to the lobby; Narcissa suspected that the Healer who had been stationed to supervise her would make it there in two.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "That was cruel, Cissy," he admonished, but she could hear the admiration in his tone.

"If they're going to follow me around, the least they could do is be subtle about it," she retorted. Folding her hands in her lap, she examined her cousin. His eyes were still haunted from the time he had spent in Azkaban, but he was no longer the pale, haggard creature he had been. She suspected that the hospital would release him within the week. "In any case, how have you been?"

"Sore, bored, and impatient to leave."

She nodded, aware that he wasn't talking about physical pain but recognising that he wouldn't want to open up about it to her. One day, perhaps, he might—but even then, she doubted it. Too much had passed between them for them to ever discuss their demons together. "You never could sit still for longer than a minute," she said, settling on the easiest topic of discussion. "It used to drive both of our mothers mad."

"My goal in life," he joked.

Narcissa hid her smile. Her little cousin's antics had always amused her when they were children, but she had known that it wasn't proper behaviour, so she had concealed her reaction so as not to encourage his delinquencies. "Do you remember how you broke Father's antique lamp when you were four? You had stolen Bella's owl—wanted to free it, I think you said—and crashed headfirst into it in your attempt to get outside before she could catch you. Father fixed it, of course, but he was convinced it didn't look the same. After that, my parents cast Strengthening Charms over the entire house whenever you were due to visit."

"Wait; is _that_ why they always made me wait outside for a few minutes whenever I dropped by unannounced?"

"I daresay it was."

He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "I can't believe I never worked it out. Well, good for them. It was worth it, anyway. I might not have freed the poor thing, but Bellatrix didn't speak to me for a whole month after the incident. Best few weeks of my life."

Narcissa held her tongue. She and Bellatrix had been close when they were young, but the older girl hadn't been the easiest person to live with. She'd had the terrifying ability to shift between affection and cruelty in the blink of an eye. Still, it felt wrong to insult her sister in front of Sirius—treasonous, almost. That was family business. They might be reconnecting, but that touched on an old wound that had been left to fester for so long that she doubted that it would ever fully heal. "You two certainly did clash," she replied diplomatically.

Irritation flashed across his face. Fortunately, before he could say something that they would both come to regret, a soft knock interrupted them. "Padfoot?"

Narcissa grimaced at the familiar sound of Remus Lupin's voice. The wizard had testified at Sirius' trial, but for the most part, she liked to pretend that he didn't exist. Pettigrew had told the Dark Lord's inner circle about how he had been infected by Greyback as a child and struggled with his lycanthropy throughout his school years—and, of course, Lucius had passed that information on to her. Lupin's value to Sirius was undeniable; after his time in Azkaban, he could use all the support he could get. That didn't lessen the bile that rose in her throat at the knowledge that a half-breed had sat in the same chair she was currently occupying. "I should leave."

"Nonsense; you only just got here."

"Oh—Mrs Malfoy. I didn't realise you were here. I can come back later," Lupin offered. "I don't—"

"How did the meeting go?" Sirius cut him off.

Narcissa closed her eyes, recognising that Sirius would kick up a fuss if either of them tried to leave.

Lupin, apparently, realised the same thing, for he sighed and, shooting Narcissa an apologetic look, made his way to the other side of the bed. He conjured himself a simple armchair and settled down into it. "I spoke with Amelia Bones," he said. "I'm sorry, Padfoot, but they won't give you custody until you can prove that you're stable."

"Would they let him stay with you?" To her surprise, Sirius sounded urgent. Then again, she supposed that he probably just wanted to see his godson again.

"Even if they did, I couldn't provide a good environment for him. You know that."

"Why can't he stay where he is until Sirius passes whatever test they create?" Narcissa asked, frowning.

"Lily and James left a list of potential guardians in their will," Sirius explained. His voice seethed with inexplicable anger. "By the end of the war, most of them were dead or incapacitated. Me, Remus, Alice and Frank, Marlene—the only person left had been listed as a last resort."

"Lily's sister," Lupin chimed in. "We wouldn't trust her with a puppy, let alone a human child. She was disdainful of anything even remotely related to magic."

"I could seek temporary custody," Narcissa offered. "The manor is already baby-proof, and since you'll be living with me once you're released, it will be as if you're raising him yourself."

Both wizards stared at her in shock.

"Why?" Sirius asked. "Why are you helping me?"

He had asked her that very same question the day she first arrived at Azkaban with promises of a proper trial and freedom. Back then, she had taken advantage of his disorientation to change the topic to something safer. She had hoped that he would forget about it once he was free, but she had known that he would ask again one day.

She shrugged. Because her family were all either dead, imprisoned, or unwilling to speak to her. Because she was determined to distance herself from the Dark Lord's legacy. Because proving his innocence meant redeeming the Black name in the eyes of the public. Because she wanted to protect her son. Because— "We were close when we were children," she said, her voice as light as a fairy dancing along on the breeze. "Can't it just be a long overdue display of family loyalty?"

"You married Malfoy, and Mother disowned me. Neither of us are Blacks anymore."

Narcissa raised her chin. "We will both be Blacks until the day we die."

"I'm still not buying it."

She smiled sadly to herself. "Then perhaps it's better if you don't ask. At the end of the day, I am willing to help you. Isn't that enough?"

"It is," Lupin said before Sirius could respond, "isn't it, Padfoot? Besides, your cousin won't be going alone."

"I can manage by myself," Narcissa cut in, recognising where the conversation was heading.

Lupin turned to her for the first time since he arrived. "If you go alone, the Wizengamot is going to think you're trying to kidnap him. They're more likely to believe you if I'm there, too."

"Besides, you might get over some of that blood prejudice while you're at it." Sirius' voice was mild, but his words were scathing. He reminded her of a child having a tantrum because he had been told to avoid touching the hot stove, trying to lash out at her so that she would feel as wronged as he did.

" _Padfoot_ ," Remus hissed, sounding mortified.

Unfortunately for her cousin, Narcissa had enough experience with crying babies and squabbling wizards that clumsy barbs didn't bother her anymore. "I hate to inconvenience you, Mr Lupin, but you might be right. I fear that certain members of the press would claim that my interest meant the only reason I campaigned for Sirius was to get to Harry. I will owl you tonight to discuss the matter in more depth."

-x-x-

Narcissa took a sip from her glass of wine as she watched Draco tackle Sirius, attempting to drag him to the ground. But his struggle was in vain, much to the toddler's displeasure. He called for Harry's help, but the black-haired boy hung back, watching the wrestling match with blatant bemusement. A week had passed since he had moved into the manor, and he still treated them all like they were commanders to be obeyed rather than family to be relied upon. She watched with interest as the emotions flickered across his face: fear, longing, then, finally, resolve. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius' lower leg. It looked more like a hug than a grapple, but she supposed it was a start. A moment after the boy joined the fray, Sirius made an elaborate show of gasping and falling to his knees.

"No!" he cried, drawing the sound out as long as he could. "Not like this!"

She rolled her eyes at his antics. Despite the Ministry's hesitation, he was a good godfather, and she knew he would make a good guardian one day as well. He would make a better one than Harry's aunt and uncle had, at least. She turned towards the wizard sitting beside her. "He seems to be getting more comfortable around us."

Remus nodded. "Finally. I was worried that, after how the Dursleys treated him, he would refuse to let any of us in."

The one thing Narcissa and Remus had been able to agree on without compunction was that 4 Privet Drive was no place for a child to live. They had told Sirius enough about the situation for him to know to approach Harry with care, but they had an unspoken agreement not to inform him of the full extent of the boy's prior living conditions. If they had, they had no doubt that Sirius would be heading right back to Azkaban the next day.

But their shared outrage had drawn them together, creating a quiet camaraderie that no amount of interference from Sirius could have forged. As they sat in companionable silence, she was faced with the realisation that he wasn't as terrible as she had thought he was. Despite his blood status and his unfortunate run-in with Greyback, he was actually well-mannered and rather interesting.

She wasn't yet ready to process the concept that _him_ being engaging company despite being a half-blood werewolf meant that _any and all_ half-bloods and werewolves might be the same, but she couldn't deny that the thought had occurred to her. She had the uncomfortable suspicion that agreeing to work with Remus to help Harry would be the beginning of the end for more than one of the beliefs her parents had ingrained in her as a child.

"Why _did_ you help him?" Remus asked, tearing her from her thoughts.

"I had a number of reasons, but the main one is Draco," she admitted. "I don't want him to follow Lucius' footsteps; I've already seen where that path leads. Perhaps, with Sirius in his life, he will feel like he has another option."

"Then why didn't you just tell him that?"

Narcissa laughed and gestured over to Sirius, who had somehow wound up with one child hanging off each arm as he sprinted through the rows of hedges. "Have you _seen_ his ego? If I'd told him I wanted Draco to choose a different path, he'd have had the boy wearing red and gold before the day was out."

He grinned at the thought. "He can be rather… tenacious."

She reached for a piece of the hazelnut chocolate on the table before frowning when she realised that her companion hadn't yet eaten any. "Would you like some?"

In an instant, the mirth faded from his eyes, replaced by a quiet sheepishness. "Er… Thank you, but I'm allergic to hazelnuts."

Narcissa had never once contemplated the idea that werewolves and half-bloods would have allergies and health conditions just like other witches and wizards. Since neither the Malfoys nor the Blacks ever entertained guests who were not purebloods, she had never needed to take their dietary preferences into consideration. It was yet another sign, she supposed, that her worldview might not be as conclusive as she had once thought.

The only outward indication of her shock was one slow blink.

"I will have Dobby make something else," she said, slipping back into the role of hostess with practiced ease as she rose from her seat.

"It's alright." Remus reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving. "You don't need—"

His voice broke off as they both stared down at their entwined hands. Despite their begrudging friendship, they had never had reason to touch one another. But instead of feeling disgusted, she just felt warm. Instead of staying to analyse the feeling, Narcissa pulled her hand out of his grasp. "You are my guest," she said, her voice a touch shakier than she would have liked. "I insist."

-x-x-

Leaning back in her ornate desk chair, Narcissa stared out the window at the darkness outside. The full moon hung low in the sky like an ominous reminder of the werewolf that was currently trapped in the dungeons beneath the manor. The Muffling Charms that she had layered over the floor kept the noise from permeating through the building, but the knowledge of the horror that Remus and Sirius were facing made the silence stifling.

Her thoughts returned to the sandy-haired wizard. Something had shifted between them that evening; that much was certain. The question was whether her feelings for him were something worth exploring—and the more she considered it, the more it dawned on her that they might be. She had been afraid that his condition would put Draco in danger, but Remus was as eager to avoid harming people as anyone. Her society friends would have been horrified at the thought of Narcissa being courted by a half-blood, but they were the kind of people that she was already trying to distance herself from.

 _What do I want and how can I get it?_ Narcissa asked herself, repeating the questions that her parents had instilled into her as a child. After a few moments of quiet self-reflection, she concluded, _I want to explore this, and I can only get it if I try._

She knew there was a chance it would fail. He might not live up to her expectations; she might not live up to his. She didn't know if she would ever fully disavow blood purism, or if Remus would be able to forgive her if she didn't. But she had learned to trust her instincts over the years she had spent dealing with people who had more ulterior motives than winter coats, and her instincts were telling her that this was what she wanted. She wasn't ready to ask yet—for she knew that she would have to be the one to make the first move—but she would. Soon.

Of course, Sirius would be insufferable when he found out.


End file.
